


I'll draw us a map

by analineblue



Category: Kimi to Boku | You and I
Genre: Episode Related, Gen, Twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-03
Updated: 2012-05-03
Packaged: 2017-11-04 19:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/analineblue/pseuds/analineblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On fights, and making up, and Yuuki not having to be told twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll draw us a map

**Author's Note:**

> Well, what can I say, this episode just wouldn’t leave me alone, and I had to write more twins fic. ;) There are a lot of elements from the episode here, but I’d like to think it stands on its own as well. (And I really hope you enjoy it. :D)

When Yuuki is five, Yuuta tells him he has to learn how to sleep on his own, and he listens, because despite all his grumblings, Yuuta is his big brother, and (almost) always knows best. 

But he still ends up staring at the underside of the bottom bunk for hours and hours the next night, listening to Yuuta's breathing shift from awake, to almost asleep, to asleep, and he thinks that maybe, if he screws his eyes shut and concentrates really hard, he can almost smell Yuuta's shampoo, even from way down here, a million miles away. 

It's really weird, sleeping alone, Yuuki thinks, before tiredness pulls the edges of the room in tight and everything fades into darkness. 

When he wakes up, it's still dark, but Yuuta is curled up around him - warm and solid and familiar - and it's a lot easier to fall asleep now than it was the first time around. 

**

In elementary school, Yuuki quickly comes to realize that talking to his classmates is just more bother than it’s worth. They don’t _know_ anything about him, for one thing. Half the time he wonders if they’re just trying to figure out which brother he is; he can’t imagine why they’d be asking for his help with their homework if they weren’t at least a little confused. Or maybe they know who he is, but think that he’s going to give away all the answers too, because that’s what Yuuta always does. Either way, they ask too many questions, and they stare too much, especially the girls. 

It makes Yuuki's head ache, so during class he stores up whatever it is that he's been thinking, anecdotes from the world around his desk. What he’s saying wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but Yuuta doesn't bat an eye, just listens.

"And then it was gone. My eraser. At the end of second period. Vanished, into the wind." 

Yuuki pauses melodramatically, leaning back against the door frame as two girls push past them, giggling, abrasive. Yuuta grabs him by the elbow, and steers them out of the way. 

"What should I do?" Yuuki asks, staring past Yuuta, as the two girls join a line that’s sprung up in front of their floor’s lone vending machine.

Yuuta blinks at him. He hasn't let go of his elbow. "Which eraser?" he asks, and when Yuuki tells him that it’s the special one that’d come with the new Sergeant Frog limited edition box set, Yuuta's grip tightens, even though he doesn't say anything. 

By the end of the day, the eraser is back in Yuuki's hand, warm from Yuuta's pocket, and Yuuki vows right then and there that he's never letting it out of his sight again. 

** 

Talking to Yuuta is second nature - it requires no thought at all, which probably explains why their conversations occasionally happen when Yuuta’s not even there. 

Yuuta is almost never Not There though, and what does Yuuki care if some stupid shopkeeper eyes him a little oddly as he leafs through the manga section at the front of the store. So what if he mumbles a couple of comments here and there to Yuuta, who happens to be at kendo club, and not hanging out at the furthest edge of Yuuki’s peripheral vision, where he belongs. 

Sometimes Yuuki pretends he’s there anyway, even when he knows perfectly well Yuuta’s _not_ , because speaking out loud to Yuuta has always been preferable to the dull silence inside his head. 

He tells his brother this once, late at night when they’re both supposed to be asleep, and the moon is streaming in through their window, spilling out over the bookcases and onto the floor. Yuuki is sprawled out in front of their bunk beds with a new magazine, yawning, waiting for Yuuta to finish his math homework.

Yuuta arrived home late from a match at a neighboring school, so he’s just starting now, which doesn’t really bother Yuuki – he likes staying up late, likes doing most things he’s told it would be better to avoid. Yuuta only stays up after lights out for a good reason, like homework. 

Yuuta’s hair is still wet from the bath, and he’s sitting at his desk, his pre-algebra notebook in his lap, and his book open in front of him. He’s scribbling something down on a separate sheet of paper, but stops at the sound of Yuuki’s voice. 

Yuuki squints over at his brother in the darkness. He could switch on the light under his bunk, but he prefers the glow of Yuuta’s desk lamp, and the splashed milk glow of the almost-full moon instead. 

He expects Yuuta to laugh, or to roll his eyes at him, and he does both of these things, before he returns to his homework. But two days later, when Yuuki finds himself alone at the magazine shelf again, contemplating the merits of one magazine over the other, he reaches into his back pocket for his wallet and there’s a carefully folded up piece of paper there too. 

Yuuta’s familiar handwriting (neater than his own, but just barely) stares up at him. 

_Just buy them both before the shopkeeper kicks you out again._

And then on the back, scrawled hastily, an afterthought, maybe - _I saved a little extra from lunch yesterday – I’ll give it to you later, so just buy what you want._

Yuuki only buys one (he can always let Yuuta buy him the other later) but somehow, instead of heading home, he finds himself sitting cross-legged in a far corner of the kendo dojo, watching Yuuta score points and shout strange words at his opponents for the rest of the evening. (They sound like battle cries-- _men_!; _kote_!--and Yuuta looks like a warrior in his mask and leather breastplate.) 

It’s just a practice match, though you’d never know it from the intensity the club members show their opponents. It’s not the first time Yuuki’s watched his brother’s kendo, but somehow, it’s more exciting tonight. 

Yuuki watches the bamboo swords cut through the air, watches the measured dance of Yuuta’s feet against the wooden floor, and after a while, the thick magazine lies forgotten in front of him, as he leans forward in rapt attention. 

At the end of the night, Yuuta tries to shove him off as they walk home in the warm September air ( _Yuuki, I can’t breathe, and I’m all sweaty._ ) but Yuuki ignores him. When he closes his eyes, he sees Yuuta’s arms rise high above his head, before they slice down through the air in front of him as he steps forward towards his opponent. 

“ _Men_ ,” he whispers to himself experimentally, against Yuuta’s shoulder, though it sort of loses its effect without the shouting, he realizes, and then they’re home.

**

“So have you guys ever, you know, played tricks on people,” Chizuru asks, grinning mischievously as he leans forward into Yuuki’s personal space. “To get out of trouble - you know, the old _switcheroo_?” 

The wind whips around the roof, the air cool for early April, even though the sky is bright blue up above them. 

Yuuki pretends to consider this. “I don’t think it ever got us out of trouble, but I used to pretend to be Yuuta all the time.”

Yuuta sighs. “You just thought it would be cool to wear my armor and smack people on the head with a sword.” 

Yuuki blinks, takes the last bite of his curry bread.

“It _is_ cool,” he says with his mouth full. He swallows when he catches Yuuta glaring at him. “Everything Yuuta does is cool,” he finishes calmly, like he’s just stated some universal truth. Then he returns to examining the plastic wrapper in his hands, calculating the easiest way to remove the sticker later, careful not to damage the edges as he slides it into his pocket. 

**

Yuuki is seventeen and sometimes he still thinks he has an easier time falling asleep when he’s able to look over and see Yuuta’s face next to him. 

This, of course, only happens on the weekends now. Most likely (and without remorse) Yuuki has forced his brother to watch all of the special features of whatever new DVD he’s acquired that week. This is the only time Yuuta falls asleep first anymore, and thus allows ample time for Yuuki to draw (imaginary, of course - it’s not as if he has a death wish) embellishments across the smooth lines of his brother’s face. 

The couch isn’t exactly comfortable, but actually getting up would be too much of a bother, especially with Yuuta’s shoulders and head and long legs draped across it (and him) like this. Their arms are both bent identically at the elbow, their ankles interchangeable from this vantage point. Yuuki observes this phenomenon with passing interest, before he closes his eyes.

He remembers things like this when he’s angry at Yuuta, when he’s so tired of Yuuta telling him what to do (as if it’s some kind of part time job he’s getting _paid_ for or something). Of course, remembering this kind of stuff when he’s angry doesn’t help at all. It only makes him _more_ angry, only strengthens his resolve to break away, to forge bonds with a new family, one where his face will be unique, instead of shared by someone who seems to be holding him up to some standard that he can’t ever quite reach, and doesn’t really want to. 

He wonders why Yuuta cares so much about whether or not he cleans the windows, or straightens his desk, or folds his clothes, or remembers his lunchbox in the morning, as if any of those things _matter_. Surely if he stayed here, Kaname and his mother wouldn’t participate in such a cruel conspiracy of oppression. Surely, here, he’d be appreciated for being amiable, fun, friendly. 

And then Yuuta shows up, and Yuuki remembers that he’s never been all that friendly or amiable, and that in the end, being with Yuuta is the most fun anyway.

**

Yuuta is good at staying quiet, maybe even better than Yuuki, but silence like this makes him squirm a little, and that’s probably why he slips on the ice in the first place. Trying to get inside Yuuta’s head when he doesn’t want you there is a dangerous pursuit, one that easily leads to distraction. And accidents, clearly. 

The idea that Yuuki would resort to violence, no matter how angry he was is ridiculous. At least he doesn’t think he could ever get _that_ angry. He’s pretty sure Yuuta knows this too.

And besides, he’s not angry anymore anyway, he’s just walking home with Yuuta, on the last, long night of the year, and he doesn’t think Yuuta is angry anymore either. Yuuki had almost apologized, after all, and since Yuuta always knows what he’s thinking, it’s as good as if he’d said it. 

“Do you remember that plate I broke, the one we buried under the tree at the corner?” Yuuta says eventually, once Yuuki has caught up, and they’re walking side by side again. 

Overhead, the street light shines a bright, cold circle of light on the path ahead of them. Yuuki scans the ground for more ice, and then just decides it’d be safer with his arm linked around Yuuta’s. It’s warmer this way, too. 

They’re almost home. Suddenly, Yuuki realizes how hungry he is. All that time over at Kaname’s, and he’s not even late for dinner. 

“Think it’s still there?” he asks after a moment. “The plate?” 

“I followed your map earlier,” Yuuta says, his breath huffing out into the cold like smoke. “It looks exactly the same as it did that day.” 

“Really? Amazing,” Yuuki says, remembering the look on Yuuta’s face, how he’d been practically shaking with fear. All over that one, ugly plate. Yuuta was never scared, but he had been, that day.

Yuuta just nods, and the wind picks up a little, whistling through the bare trees. 

“I told you he wouldn’t notice.”

“I know. You’ve always been better than me at figuring stuff like that out.” 

Yuuki nods, acknowledging this, and then adds, “It’s easier when you’re there though.” 

“Mmm,” Yuuta agrees, and they’re at the front door - the bright yellow light is a beacon in the darkness.

**

Inside, Yuuki can practically feel the warmth of the kotatsu, all the way across the room. There’s the familiar hum of the TV too, and the pile of manga that’ll last him well into the New Year. 

He’s not even sure if Kaname’s house _has_ a kotatsu. He hadn’t seen one there in the living room, but maybe Kaname’s family didn’t keep theirs in the middle of the floor. 

Either way, he’s glad to be home. 

**

“Everyone has a kotatsu,” Yuuta says much later, but Yuuki’s still not sure. 

He stares up at Yuuta’s face from the bend in his elbow, where he’s been resting his head for a while now, staring off at the TV, but not really watching. 

“I suppose they could have been hiding it,” he says, considering this seriously for a moment.

Their parents had already gone to bed, and if it wasn’t for the effort it took to extract himself from this warmth blanketing the lower half of his body, he’d probably be asleep too. The TV chatters and flickers behind Yuuta’s head. Lines of carefully bundled families, couples arm in arm, everyone making their way to the shrine, prayers, bells - the same as always.

“Either way, I bet it’s not as warm as this one,” he says, and Yuuta looks over at him for a long moment. For a second, Yuuki remembers how mad he’d been earlier. How mad Yuuta had been. How nice it had felt to be alone, at first. 

“Of course not,” Yuuta says, rolling his shoulders back, and stretching his arms up to the ceiling. “This is the best,” he says, running his fingers over the smooth surface of the table. 

Then he flicks off the TV and stands, letting out a long breath. 

“Come on,” he says, and holds out his hand. 

Behind him, the moonlight is just barely creeping through the bottom of the window. He can’t see Yuuta’s face, but his hand and his arm are glowing, illuminated in the faint grey light. 

Yuuki, for once, doesn’t need to be told twice. 

**end**


End file.
